


Ade of the Mand'alor

by shadowmaat



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Freedom, M/M, Pining, Slavery, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23472562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: What if Jango Fett decided he couldn't cope with his clones being slaves to the Jedi and decided to keep them for himself?Obi-Wan is sent to investigate rumors that Fett is raising an army to take back Mandalore. What he finds isn't what he expected, and fighting beside the highly competent and not-unattractive Kote Mereel only adds to his growing list of problems.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 159
Kudos: 985
Collections: Favorite Rereads





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen a headcanon used a few times that "Cody" is a corruption of "Kote," the Mando'a word for "glory." I love that too much not to use it here.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, currently going by the name Rez Tavers, took another sip of his drink and leaned back, surveying the dim cantina. It had been over a month since he’d been sent undercover to investigate rumors that Jango Fett was raising an army, and he was beginning to think it was nothing but spice smoke. Each lead evaporated, and witness accounts didn’t add up. It might be time to admit defeat and head back to Coruscant. The Council would be disappointed with him, but that wasn’t anything new.

A shadow moved and he glanced up to find an armored figure standing beside his booth. There were a few orange markings on the otherwise black armor. The style was vaguely Mandalorian, though the sound of the plates shifting against each other didn’t sound like beskar.

“Word is you’ve been looking for some trouble,” the figure said. Masculine, and with a lilt that sounded strongly of Concord Dawn.

“What kind of trouble are you offering?” Smiling, Obi-Wan let his gaze wander over the man. The armor blended in a little too well with the dim interior of the cantina, but it was still clear that he was heavily armed. No jetpack, though; perhaps he hadn’t earned it yet.

The man sat across from him, the tilt of his helmet somehow managing to convey disapproval. 

“If you’re looking to knock boots, you’ll have better luck at the _Writhing Ahwey,_ " the stranger said. “But if you’re looking to knock heads, I may know someone who can help.”

“I’m listening.” Obi-Wan leaned forward. 

“Your credentials check out.” The man slid a datapuck over to him. “Buir wants to know your intentions first, though.” His helmet tilted toward his chest, the shadows lending it a serious cast. “We’re not a bunch of mindless mercenaries, after all.”

“Of course not.” Obi-Wan checked the puck, hoping his contact hadn’t noticed the way his eyes widened at the word buir. It was Mando’a for “parent,” which meant this wasn’t Jango himself, and that the information they had on his “army” was missing some essential information.

“You’ll find the coordinates for the rendezvous…” 

Obi-Wan glanced up at the sudden silence. His contact had gone rigid and was reaching for one of his holsters.

“Dar’jetii.”

 _Sith_. Obi-Wan glanced toward the entrance as a wave of cold washed through the Force. Standing there was an older man, human, his white hair and beard trimmed to perfection. Obi-Wan’s heart stopped. _No. It couldn’t be._ Master Dooku had left the Order, but he wouldn’t… he couldn’t _possibly_ have Fallen.

“If you want to live long enough to make it to those coordinates, you’ll do as I say.”

Before he could respond, Dooku looked their way. He could feel the darkness pressing in on his mind, and was grateful for the training that let him shrug it off. 

Across the table from him, the pseudo-Mando swore, firing off three quick shots at Dooku. If there’d been any doubt about the former Jedi’s alignment, the sudden appearance of a crimson blade settled it.

Patrons screamed and dove for cover as Dooku deflected the shots, stalking towards them as he did. 

Obi-Wan reached for his saber and found a blaster instead. Right. Rez Tavers wasn’t a Jedi. He lifted the blaster as the pseudo-Mando stood, firing more shots at Dooku. A quick look revealed a dusty stuffed dune lizard hanging from the rafters. He fired a couple of shots, sending the trophy crashing towards Dooku, who was forced to duck out of the way.

“This way!”

His companion made a run for the kitchen. Obi-Wan started to follow.

“The puck!” He turned, calling it to his hand before running through the doors into the kitchen.

Cooks shouted in a mix of languages, but Obi-Wan ignored them, intent on the dark-armored figure ahead of him. A blaster shot and a solid kick sent the outside door flying open and they exited into a dim alley.

“Stop right there!” A metallic voice ordered, and Obi-Wan felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise; he hadn’t heard that sound since Naboo.

“Clankers. Of kriffin’ course.” His companion produced a second blaster and opened fire. Obi-Wan joined him as they shot their way through a group of B-1 battle droids and out to the street. A speeder bike painted over in flames stood nearby.

“Get on!”

Obi-Wan didn’t need to be told twice. He hopped on the back and then hung on for dear life as the bike surged forward, swinging wildly through the crowded streets without ever managing to hit anyone. His heart was racing and his hands, pressed against what felt like a plastoid-armored stomach, could feel heat radiating outward. He really needed to learn this man’s name at some point.

“Are all your first dates this exciting?” He had to shout the question, but didn’t get any response. It was probably for the best. Between the adrenaline rush and perhaps a little too much of the local rotgut his tongue was, perhaps, just a little looser than it should have been. But damn, that had been some impressive marksmanship and he’d already had an alternate exit planned. Competency was one of his weaknesses.

A ship loomed ahead, parked at the edge of the public lot. The ramp extended as they approached, and rather than stop, his companion rode the bike right into the ship before hopping off.

“Rex! We got company!”

“I noticed,” came the reply from the cockpit. The ramp was already closing and as Obi-Wan dismounted he could feel the hum of the engines through the cargo deck. The man who’d just saved his life pulled his helmet off and turned to look at him.

“Looks like we’ll be escorting you to that rendezvous.” 

He smiled as he said it and somehow, Obi-Wan’s heart managed to beat a little faster. He had dark tan skin and warm, golden brown eyes. His hair was wavy and black and there was a bit of stubble on his face. He looked almost exactly like the images of Jango Fett, but at least fifteen years younger and still soft around the edges.

 _Oh, no,_ Obi-Wan thought.

“I’m Kote Mereel.” The man offered his hand. “Welcome aboard.”

 _Oh, no._ The thought bore repeating. Obi-Wan was in so, so much trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kenobi Luck is still in play, even in this AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The subject of slavery comes up toward the end of the chapter, if that's a touchy subject for anyone.

_“You should have left him.”_

_“Tyrannus would have caught him.”_

_“So? That isn’t our problem.”_

_“I’d already given him the coordinates.”_

_“Idiot!_ ” Rex let loose a string of swearing.

Obi-Wan continued to disassemble and clean his blaster. Rex and Kote were carrying on the conversation in Mando’a, a language that “Rez” didn’t know and shouldn’t react to.

Rex had been introduced to him as Kote’s twin. Identical, as far as Obi-Wan could tell, aside from Rex’s blond hair. 

_“It’ll take us a day and a half to get there,_ " Rex continued, rapping his knuckles on the tabletop. _“Where’s your new boyfriend supposed to sleep?”_

Obi-Wan jabbed himself in the thumb with the flex rod.

 _“He’s not my boyfriend._ ” Kote scowled. _“We’ll figure something out.”_

 _“Just make sure it doesn’t involve my bunk._ ” Rex stood and stretched. _“Or yours.”_

 _“You_ know _I’m ace, jackass._ ” Kote swatted him as he went by. _“I’m hardly gonna fall into bed with someone I barely know!”_

_“Just remember to set a good example for the rest of us, big brother.”_

_“Oh, I’ll make an example of you, alright!"_ Kote made a rude gesture that was returned by the retreating Rex.

“Is there a problem?” 

“No.” Kote glared into his mug of caf. “It’s about a day and a half to where we’re going and space on the ship is limited.”

“Ah.” Obi-Wan tried to decide how much he was supposed to surmise from that.

“The crash couch isn’t much,” Kote continued, “but it’ll do in a pinch.”

He had to stifle another smile. Kote was practical and straightforward; it made a nice change from the diplomatic missions the Temple always seemed to assign to him. 

“That’s fine,” he said. “I just appreciate the rescue from… whatever that guy was.”

Kote looked up at him. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just a disgruntled customer.”

 _Customer?_ Obi-Wan wondered. What could former Master Dooku possibly want with an army? If he’d truly fallen, then it couldn’t be anything good. A chill traveled up his spine as he considered it.

“We can make sure your ship isn’t stolen or impounded as well,” Kote said. “Just give me the lot number and I’ll have one of my brothers keep an eye on it.”

“More brothers?” Obi-Wan arched a brow. “This is quite the family business, isn’t it?”

Kote smiled at him, the gleam in his eye making Obi-Wan’s heart beat faster. “Oh, you have no idea, Mr. Tavers.”

“Rez,” Obi-Wan corrected. “If we’re traveling together please call me Rez.”

“Rez, then,” Kote said.

Obi-Wan passed along the details on his ship- a loaner from a friend of a friend of Dex’s- and Kote left to make arrangements, even dropping out of hyper long enough to send a message. For a ruthless army of cut-throats, the examples he’d seen so far had seemed polite enough. Not that manners were always a good indication, of course, but he had a good feeling about Kote and Rex. 

His feelings about seeing Master Dooku wielding a red lightsaber were decidedly less good. There’d been rumors of the Sith trying to make a return since that accursed mission to protect the Queen of Naboo. Nothing had been proven, though, not with the suspect escaping while Obi-Wan tended to his wounded Master. Qui-Gon had been furious and spent the entire trip back to Coruscant alternating between lecturing Obi-Wan about his attachments and doting on the pint-sized prodigy they’d acquired on Tatooine.

It hadn’t stopped him from Knighting Obi-Wan, though, and if he’d only done it to free up room to take on Anakin as a Padawan Learner, well, a Knighthood was still a Knighthood. Obi-Wan would never be one of the great Masters, as Anakin would likely one day be, but he was still an asset to the Order. An asset who currently wasn’t doing his job.

Scratching at the fuzz growing on his chin, he decided to make a quick circuit of the common area where he’d been left. Not that there was much to it: a couch, a fold-up table, a flash-heater for the meal packs, and a small chiller containing water, juice, and a couple of beers. The only unexpected item was the crayon drawing pinned to the chiller with a couple of magnets. It featured a figure in blue armor shooting fire at a couple of figures with unrealistically long necks. Or possibly they were balloons. The picture was signed by “Boba.”

The sense that something was off about this mission intensified. Were there _children_ involved in this, too? Why didn’t any of his information add up? Maybe Qui-Gon was right about him and his tendency to allow emotions to cloud his judgement. He’d only known Kote and Rex for a couple of hours and that wasn’t nearly enough time to get a proper read on them. Rex hadn’t even taken his armor off yet, but he still couldn’t shake that nagging sense of _trust_ for both of them.

He was seated again and reading an old issue of _Hot Ships_ he’d found when Kote returned.

“Gearshift said he’d keep an eye on it for you,” he said. “He also told me to tell you if you’re in the market for a better ship to comm him.”

Obi-Wan smirked. His borrowed ship did leave a lot to be desired, but it got the job done. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “So, uh, anything you care to tell me about Jango? Something to give me an edge in the negotiations?”

Kote’s smile grew wolfish. “If you think I’m giving away any secrets, you’re not as smart as I thought you were.” He leaned against the common area’s tiny counter.

“No secrets!” Obi-Wan widened his eyes, trying to look like he was trying to look innocent. “Just some hints. After all, you already know my story.” 

He’d spread a tale of rebels fighting a corrupt government. It had the benefit of being true mostly; the rebels had asked the Jedi for help and had been willing to back up Obi-Wan’s cover in exchange. If everything worked out it was Jango’s army who’d be providing the assistance and the Jedi wouldn’t have to worry about any diplomatic breaches with the Senate over it.

There were far too many moving parts in this plan for Obi-Wan’s liking, but his opinion had not been solicited and when he’d tried to object anyway he’d been overruled.

Kote’s eyes narrowed, and Obi-Wan felt his skin prickle at the level of scrutiny he was being given. Whatever he saw must have passed inspection, because he relaxed, folding his arms over his chest.

“Just be straightforward with him,” he said. “Don’t try and suck up. He gets enough of that _oss_ from people as it is.”

Obi-Wan nodded. That fit with what the file had said about him.

“Don’t try and bluff him, either. He’ll see right through it.”

The warning was a good one, but the continued scrutiny made him want to fidget. He cleared his throat.

“Thanks for that. I appreciate it.”

Kote shrugged. “You handled yourself well back there. That was quick thinking with the stuffed lizard.”

He warmed at the praise. “You weren’t bad, yourself. We made a pretty good team.”

A head tilt and a small nod. “Yeah, I guess we did.” He straightened, stretching his arms wide in a magnificent display of muscle. “Dinner’s in two. I’ll be in my bunk if you need anything.”

After he left, Obi-Wan tried to distract himself with the holomag. When that didn’t work, he settled for meditation. The Force bent in odd currents, some swirling off far past his range and others seeming to circle him like warm eddies. The mote of Kote’s presence was a tranquil green, while Rex’s was a prickly yellow, an indication of mood, if nothing else.

Focusing inward, Obi-Wan tried to sort out the snarls that had formed in his own presence. Tendrils stretched toward Kote like green shoots seeking the sun. He did his best to nudge them back in place and to settle the nerves stirred up both by seeing Dooku and by the realization that his mission was becoming even more complicated.

THUNK-THUNK.

Obi-Wan jolted out of meditation, eyes opening to see a still-armored Rex sitting across from him, his booted feet on the table.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Rex almost sounded hopeful.

“No.” He adjusted the lapels of his worn leather jacket. “I was just organizing my thoughts.”

“Planning a victory party for when we take down your government for you?” He lifted his chin. There was no hint of a smile on his face.

“When _we_ take down my government,” Obi-Wan corrected. “My people will be fighting alongside yours, not hiding in the caves while you do all the dirty work for us.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Rex muttered.

Obi-Wan frowned. “I assure you, we’re not like that.”

“We’ll see.” Dropping his feet back to the floor, Rex stood. “Chow’s in an hour. Hope you like ration bars.” He pulled a bottle of water out of the chiller. “Don’t get your hopes up about my brother, either,” he said, heading back towards the cockpit. “Just because he saved your shebs doesn’t mean you got an easy in.”

“I didn’t-”

Rex was already gone. Obi-Wan sighed. If he thought about it, things could be worse. He hadn’t been drugged and forcibly engaged to the queen of a death cult, there wasn’t a swarm of stone mites trying to eat through the ship, and he was reasonably sure he wasn’t being set up to assassinate someone’s business partner in order to gain control of a pet food empire. He could tolerate a little awkwardness, and whatever he was feeling for Kote would go away eventually. The real trick would be convincing Jango Fett to tell him what he needed to know. Until then, everything was under control and it was only a couple of days shipboard with a couple of young mercenaries. How bad could things get?

Hours later, holed up in the crew quarters and firing at the pirates who’d yanked them out of hyper, it occurred to him that he had no one but himself to blame for this. Kote was a warm weight against his back, using him as partial support after taking a blaster shot to the knee. He’d managed to get his chestplate, helmet, and parts of his armor on, but his legs had been unprotected. Rex, at least, was locked in the cockpit, beaming a distress call to Jango and activating “countermeasures.”

As Obi-Wan dumped his expended cartridge he felt a nudge and accepted the spare handed to him by Kote. They worked well together, covering each other’s holes and knowing where to aim without speaking. The pattern was so natural it was almost like working with a fellow Jedi.

They’d taken down three of the pirates so far, but the leader and three of his cronies seemed determined to take the whole ship, even though they’d already offloaded all the supplies Kote and Rex had been transporting back to their brothers. Something needed to be done, but Obi-Wan couldn’t break his cover by revealing he was a Jedi.

At least not overtly.

From what he could remember of the ship’s layout, there was an emergency release button on the back wall of the cargo hold. It was protected by a transparisteel cover, but once activated it would open the cargo hatch and flush everything into space, including the pirates.

“Do you have anything valuable in the ship that isn’t tied down?” He fired another shot at an ambitious Rodian trying to move up on them.

“Other than ourselves, anything valuable has already been taken by these bastards,” Kote replied.

“Do you trust me?”

There was a pause as Kote caught the Rodian in the leg. “No.”

Obi-Wan grinned. “Good, get ready to pull me back in and warn Rex about decompression!”

“What?!”

Obi-Wan dove into the short hallway, paused long enough to sight the button and the three surprised pirates, and fired a covering shot, using the Force to shatter the cover and push the button. The blast hit close enough to look like it was responsible for what happened next.

Warning klaxons sounded and lights flashed as a loud clunk reverberated through the ship. The pirates were too busy firing at him to realize their danger. He took a shot to the shoulder before he could duck, and then Kote was hauling him into the crew quarters, swearing profusely in a mix of languages as the emergency blast door sealed them in.

The roar of escaping air and bangs and thuds of various loose belongings bouncing off the walls and floor wasn’t enough to cover the screams of the remaining pirates as they found themselves- and everything else- sucked into the void beyond the ship. Obi-Wan sagged against Kote; it had worked.

“-crazy fripping suicidal shabuir!” Kote was yelling. “What the doshin’ hells kind of felinx-brained stunt was that?”

Obi-Wan winced as Kote shook him, jostling his injured shoulder. “It worked, didn’t it?” He had to shout, too, to be heard over the alarms.

Somehow, even with his helmet on, Kote managed to look incredulous. “Oh, it _worked,”_ he said at last. “Rex says you’re an idiot and you aren’t allowed near the cockpit, ever.” He reached up, pulling off his helmet to reveal disheveled hair and a face sheened with sweat. “I agree with him, but… thank you. I guess.”

Obi-Wan smiled, ignoring Kote’s pinched expression. “You did save me back in the cantina, so I just returned the favor.”

Kote shook his head. “Rex is going to-” The klaxons cut out and he started over at a lower volume. “Rex has the life support working overtime to filter air back in, but it’s going to take some time.” He set his helmet on a shelf and pulled a small medikit off the wall. “Might as well have a seat. And get rid of the jacket and shirt.”

“I’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m more concerned about your leg.”

Kote turned, his gaze pinning him to the door with daggers. Slumping,Obi-Wan sidled past him and sat on the nearest bunk, wincing as he pulled the burned jacket off and the mess of his shirt underneath it.

“This is why we wear armor,” Kote said, sitting beside him. “Now, turn and face me.”

Bare from the waist up, there was no hiding the scars and burn marks he’d received over his years as a Jedi. And there was no hiding the blush that creeped up his chest all the way to his hairline, either.

“Impressive,” Kote said.

Obi-Wan blushed even harder, even though he was almost positive Kote meant the scars. 

“You’re not just some hobbyist freedom fighter, are you?” Kote squirted disinfectant on the burn and started dabbing it clean, the tips of his calloused fingers occasionally brushing undamaged skin. “You really know your stuff.”

“Oh, well, yes,” Obi-Wan struggled to remember Rez’s backstory. “I’ve seen some fighting.”

Kote smiled. “So I see. And lived to tell the tales, too.”

Obi-Wan hummed agreement, wincing a bit as the bacta was applied; it was cold, and he hated the smell of the stuff.

“Although given your reckless tactics I’d say luck had a large part to play, too.” 

The bandage was pressed into place and taped off by warm, strong hands.

“Better, now?”

“Yes, thank you.” He was light-headed. From the adrenaline crash, that was all.

“Good. Mind helping me, then?”

Glancing at the blood seeping through Kote’s pantsleg, he couldn’t hide a wince. “Of course.”

Kote stood, unzipping his pants before Obi-Wan could finish processing what was happening.

“Normally I’d get Rex to do this,” he said, hissing as the material peeled away from the blaster wound, “but since we can’t get to him right now…”

He was wearing shorts underneath, although Obi-Wan’s relief was short-lived as Kote sat again, swinging his injured leg up and across his lap. He froze.

“I can’t bend far enough without causing further injury, so-” Kote frowned. “Blood doesn’t bother you, does it?”

Obi-Wan made an inarticulate sound of negation and Kote finished explaining what needed to be done. By the time he was done Obi-Wan had recovered enough to actually follow instructions, though they were simple enough; Make sure nothing was broken or out of place and then clean and dress the wound. He was no healer, but he’d weathered his share of injuries and helped patch up worse than this over the years.

He worked as quickly as he could and got Kote patched up and the knee wrapped for protection. He ignored the taut muscles, the dark coating of hair, and the sheer weight of Kote’s leg on his own. _Asexual,_ he reminded himself, _Kote said he was asexual._

Talking helped, although he had an uncomfortable feeling that this would all come back to haunt him in his dreams.

“Have you and your brother been in this, ah, business long?”

“All our lives.”

Obi-Wan made the mistake of glancing at him. Kote had his arms propped behind him, biceps unarmored and prominent, and he was smiling.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s a family joke. We’ve been in it for a few years. Why? Having second thoughts now that you’ve gotten a taste of our life?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, concentrating on his wrapping. “No, just curious.”

“Let’s just say we were born to this life.”

There was a note of bitterness in his voice that belied the warm way he’d spoken of Jango. Another puzzle piece added to the already busy table. 

Before he could ask more about it, the door whooshed open, revealing Rex looking smug.

“Air’s on,” he said, pausing at the threshold as he took in the scene. “Am I interrupting?”

Obi-Wan’s immediate instinct was to somehow back away while still seated. Kote, however, seemed unperturbed.

“Just patching up.” He slid his leg off Obi-Wan’s lap and stood, limping slightly as he moved to pull a drawer open to get a clean set of pants. “How’s the ship?”

“Sorry for the damage I caused.” Obi-Wan pulled the damaged leather jacket over his bare shoulders. 

Rex’s default expression seemed to be one of wariness, but now, even wearing full armor, he looked softer. 

_“I was teasing you earlier,_ ” Rex said in Mando’a. _“But if you’re actually into this idiot, I can leave.”_

 _“Fuck you._ ” Kote switched back to Basic. “We’re fine. And I take it the ship is fine, too, or you wouldn’t be in here nagging like a longneck.”

Rex drew himself fully upright. _“Fuck you, too._ ” Glaring, he continued in Basic. “There’s some minor damage from the baster fight and stuff flying around, but the biggest problem is going to be detaching the pirate ship and making sure the airlock still holds.” He frowned, tilting his head.

“What else? I know that look.” Kote tossed a shirt at Obi-Wan, who murmured thanks and started pulling it on.

“I’m picking up lifesign readings on their ship.”

They both turned to stare at Rex.

“More pirates?” Kote asked.

Obi-Wan stretched his senses out, feeling past the bright motes of Kote and his brother and flinching at what he sensed.

“They haven’t moved from the cargo hold.” Rex’s voice sounded heavier, his expression going hard and sharp.

“I see.” Kote’s face mirrored his brother’s.

“Not pirates, I take it?” Obi-Wan already knew the answer.

The brothers looked at him and then at each other. Rex came into the room and started pulling off his armor. Kote was removing what pieces he wore.

“How many?” Kote asked.

“Four.” Rex accepted the clothes handed to him, stripping out of the glovelike bodysuit he wore under the armor. Obi-Wan averted his gaze and tried to squeeze past them to get out of the room. 

“Why don’t you stay here?” Kote’s voice sounded a little too friendly. “This isn’t any of your business.”

“I’d like to help, if I can,” he said.

The brothers exchanged another look. A silent conversation took place that ended with Kote raising his eyebrows and Rex twitching one shoulder.

“Fine. But stay to the back. We don’t want to scare… whomever it might be.” Rex narrowed his eyes at Kote, who ignored him.

They left their blasters behind, though Kote and Rex both carried sheathed vibroblades. Obi-Wan was carrying the three medipacks they’d had on the ship, including the partially used one from the crew quarters. He obeyed his instructions and once Kote had finished slicing the blast door that had dropped during decompression, he hung back, allowing his companions to enter the ship first.

It was cleaner than he had expected, but still stank of sweat, deathsticks, and worse. The cargo hold was full of all the supplies that had been stolen off their ship as well as those from at least one other ship.

It also contained a rancor-sized cage containing four children.

“It’s okay, little ones.” Kote and Rex approached slowly, arms raised to show they had no weapons. “We’re here to help.”

The children, ranging somewhere between fourteen and four, huddled on the far side of the cage, watching them with wary, frightened eyes. Obi-Wan took a deep, calming breath and did his best to push a feeling of safety towards them.

The oldest, a gold-skinned togruta with a swirling pattern on her montrals, shifted to try and shield the others. “Wh-who are you?” She shivered as she spoke, and Obi-Wan’s heart broke a little as he saw the dark orange bruises on her skin. 

“Friends,” Kote said, making a quick gesture with his hands.

One of the younger children, a twi’lek, gasped and tugged on the togruta’s arm, whispering rapidly.

“We killed the pirates.” Rex added a gesture of his own. “We’re here to take you home.”

He glanced back at Obi-Wan, who stepped forward and presented the medipacks. The twi’lek girl signed something back at Kote, who responded. Her smile lit up the cargo hold, and despite Obi-Wan’s desperate wish to drop his cover and offer more help, it occurred to him that his companions might be able to handle it on their own. And given their behavior, these weren’t the first slaves they’d rescued, either.

It was another gaping hole in the “dangerous mercenary army” story he’d been sold, and when he got back to the Temple he was going to make sure the Council got an earful. Right now, however, his priority was to help Kote and Rex get the younglings to safety.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, so if you notice any mistakes that's why. Gonna be a cliffhanger ending, too, so be warned. lol! Happy Star Wars day!

It took several hours to sort everything out. Rex was left in charge of getting the children settled and fed while Obi-Wan and Kote were left to haul off of their supplies back onto their ship along with any other cargo that looked useful or important. It didn’t take long for them to work up a sweat, so in order to distract them both Obi-Wan asked the question uppermost in his mind.

“What kind of signing was that?” He grunted as he shoved another crate onto the hoverpallet, trying not to think about how the pirates had forced the younglings to help them with this. “Ann seemed to recognize it,” he said, referring to the young twi’lek girl.

Kote gave him a long, appraising look before he answered.

“Slave sign,” he said. “There’s a lot of varieties, of course, but some of the basic ones are near-universal and are a good way to pass messages when talking isn’t safe.”

“Ah.” He was still trying to figure out a way to ask more about it when Kote continued unprompted.

“Our buir- I mean Jango was sold into slavery once.” Kote shrugged. “We almost were, too, until he rescued us. He made sure we knew a few basic signs, just in case.”

A chill passed along Obi-Wan’s shoulders. If he had a little less faith in the Council he’d think he’d been set up. Instead he found himself wondering who had been feeding them their intel and why they’d left so much out. _Slavery?_ He thought of the bright-eyed child his Master had acquired on Tatooine. He also remembered the feel of a metal collar around his own neck, many years ago.

“I’m glad he was there for you,” he managed to say.

“So am I.” Kote huffed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “It’s nice being able to fight on our own terms, and to help those who need it.”

He was probably imagining the look Kote flashed at him, but it still warmed him right through.

They loaded the last pallet into the ship and went back to pull data from the computers. Grissa, the togrutan girl, had been taken from her ship and if the flight data could be recovered they might be able to figure out when and where her ship got hit and maybe trace the rest of her family from there. If any survived. The younger ones, too, might have a point of origin, though it was likely to be slave markets.

Obi-Wan let Kote handle most of the slicing, since it had never been his strong suit (well, not since his early days as a padawan, under the incorrigible encouragement of Quinlan Vos). He was content to pass idle conversation with Kote, until the Force nudged for his attention. Studying the screen in front of them, he frowned.

“What’s this?” He tapped on the messages and a holoprojection flickered to life, picking up mid-sentence.

_"-ones, the reward is 300,000 credits per head. For Jango Fett himself, it's 2 million."_

“Kriff!” Kote reached out to switch it off.

“Wait.” Obi-Wan touched his hand, staring intently at the hooded figure. The voice was distorted and nothing gave a clue to the figure’s identity. Then it was gone, replaced by an image of their ship, complete with specs, known names, and last known location. Other ships were displayed as well, and beside him, Kote started swearing up a storm.

“Another dissatisfied customer?”

The glare he got was well-deserved. 

Realizing their hands were still touching he tried to move away, only for Kote to clutch at his fingers.

“This is getting too dangerous,” he said. “You were looking to find some soldiers, not another war. We’ll drop you off somewhere, make sure you get back to your ship.”

“No.” Obi-Wan squeezed back. “I’m in too deep now. I need to see this through. A-at least until the children are settled.”

“Won’t your own people miss you?”

He thought about the Temple, about his rushed Knighting ceremony and how his old Master never had time for him anymore. He thought of his friends who were always too busy and how the Council treated his reports- and the assignments attached to them- as perfunctory. This was the biggest mission he’d been given since being Knighted and nothing was adding up. He wondered if they’d expected him to find anything and realized he didn’t really care.

“No.” He smiled. “I think they’ll manage to get along without me for a while longer.”

Kote arched a brow, but released his hand. “We’ll see what Jango says about that.” 

He shut down the holomessage and shunted it and the rest of the pirates’ mail onto the datastick with the rest of the file dump and stood. “I’d better go tell Rex the good news.” He pulled the stick out of the slot and left the cockpit. Obi-Wan followed him, flexing his fingers to dispel the last of the phantom warmth from Kote’s touch.

While the two brothers were locked in the cockpit arguing with each other and with Jango via comm, Obi-Wan was left in charge of the younglings, who’d taken over the lounge. Four pairs of eyes regarded him with varying levels of suspicion and fear. All of them had been dressed in oversized black shirts, knotted where necessary to keep them from slipping.

“I take it you’ve all been fed, yes?” He smiled at them.

“Yes, Master.” The two twi’leks- twins- bobbed their heads. Grissa murmured agreement and the youngest of the lot, a trandoshan, just glared.

Obi-Wan winced. “There’s no need for that, please,” he said. “I’m sure Rex has already told you that you’re all free, now. You don’t have to call anyone ‘Master’ any longer. My name is- Rez Tavers,” he said, catching himself.

The twins bobbed their heads again. The one on the left, Ann, judging by the pale green freckles on her otherwise pink skin, murmured a “yes, sir,” while her brother Rol hid behind her.

“Are we going to find my family now, Mr. Tavers?” Grissa fidgeted, reaching up to rub one of her nubbly montrals.

“As soon as we can, my dear,” he said. “We’ll try to find homes for all of you.”

“Together?” Rol peered out from under his sister’s lek.

“You and your sister will absolutely be kept together,” he said. “Have no fear.”

“What about Sish?” Grissa gestured at the trandoshan, who flinched and hissed. “He doesn’t even speak Basic except for a couple of commands.”

Obi-Wan forced himself to smile. He could only imagine the kind of trauma these children had already suffered.

“I’m sure something can be done for him as well,” he said. In fact, judging by the occasional flickers he felt in the Force, he suspected Sish might wind up going back to the Temple with him.

“Now, as I recall, Rex and Kote offered you the use of their room until we reach our destination, is that correct?”

Three nods and one glare.

“Why don’t you go and get settled in? Hopefully we’ll be on our way soon.” 

They all glanced toward the cockpit as Kote described something biologically impossible in Mando’a. Obi-Wan cleared his throat.

“If you need anything, we’ll be out here, and if it makes you feel safer, you’re welcome to lock the door.”

The twins and Grissa exchanged a look. 

“Thank you, Mr. Tavers,” Grissa said. “Goodnight. Sish, come.” She held out her hand. Sish glared, but accepted it, allowing himself to be pulled in the direction of the crew quarters. A frantic whispered conversation was taking place, but he didn’t try to listen in.

The door closed and after a moment he heard the click of the lock and smiled. If they felt safe enough to risk locking the door, maybe they were doing a little better already.

As he was inspecting the hatch to see how to decouple the two ships, Kote exited the cockpit, his expression grim.

“Is everything alright?”

“Fine.” Kote handed him the repair kit and stepped through to set the controls on the pirates’ airlock. “Change of plans. We’re going home. You’re coming.”

“Ah.” Obi-Wan got to work soldering patches onto the lock that had been sheared by the pirate crew. “Is that a bad thing?”

Golden brown eyes locked onto his before shifting away. “No. Probably not.”

A warning beeped to notify them of the impending separation. Kote stepped through and helped Obi-Wan shove the door back into place, muscles bulging until the seals reluctantly clicked back into place, leaving them airtight and space-worthy once again.

“Rex is sleeping in the cockpit,” Kote said. “And since the younglings are in our room it looks like you’ll have some company in the lounge.”

They were standing very close. Neither of them was stepping back. Obi-Wan reminded himself not to read too much into it.

“That’s fine.” He smiled. “Although I don’t think the couch is big enough for both of us.”

It was an outrageous thing to say, but he knew it was in keeping with Rez’s personality.

Kote snorted, but before he could reply there was a sound of a door unlocking and they looked down the hallway to see Sish stalking towards them. His toes went tik-tik-tik against the metal flooring and he had something clutched in his hand.

“What do you have there, little one?” Obi-Wan knelt.

Behind Sish, a small pink head peeped out from the crew quarters before disappearing again, the door closing with a whoosh.

Sish walked up to Obi-Wan and smacked him with the object. _“_ Mi shan,” he hissed.

Obi-Wan blinked. It looked like a very battered and oversized holobook. All he could sense was fierce determination coming off the young trandoshan in waves.

“Mi shan?” Obi-Wan repeated. Mando’a he might know, but Dosh wasn’t a language he’d ever learned.

“Is that Boba’s old book?” Kote knelt beside him, holding out his hand.

“Mi shan,” Sish repeated.“Nesh!” He transferred his glare to Kote and held up the book without relinquishing it.

Kote thumbed it on and the flat image flickered to life, showing a cartoonish picture of a tooka sitting in a box. The title was _My Tooka Likes to Hide in Boxes._

Sish flipped it around and stared, his perpetual glare replaced by- surprise? Interest? He ran a stubby finger over the tooka.

“It’s a tooka,” Obi-Wan said. “Do you like tookas?”

“T’krrr,” Sish said, looking up at him, finger moving down to the box the tooka was in.“Tesh?” 

Kote nudged Obi-Wan’s arm. “I think he wants you to read it to him.”

“That’s a box, yes.” He stood. “If you want a bedtime story, perhaps it’d be best to find somewhere more comfortable.

“Bok’hiss,” Sish said. “T’krrr, bok’hiss.”

He was trying to sound out the words. Obi-Wan wondered how long the poor thing had been desperate to learn with no one to teach him. He held out his hand, but Sish hissed, clutching the book to his chest.

Kote stood as well, resting a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Welcome to parenthood.” He turned to face Sish, gesturing for him to follow. “Come,” he said. It was one of the few words they were sure the young trandoshan knew.

“Bok’hiss, t’krr.” Sish followed them, unfazed by the slight lurch as the ship jumped to hyper. By the time they reached the couch he’d already added “grrnd” and “sska” to his vocabulary.

Obi-Wan and Kote sat with Sish wedged between them, demanding answers and repetitions. They took turns reading the story and explaining all the objects in them. At one point Obi-Wan glanced over to find Kote giving him a very warm smile. He blushed, focusing back on the book.

“The tooka from Naboo joined the Queen’s crew.”

Some of the concepts were clearly beyond the boy’s scope, such as the undersea gala thrown by the tooka from Mon Cala, but they did the best they could and Sish remained grimly determined.

Some undetermined time later, Obi-Wan realized he could feel fingers brushing through his hair. He also realized he’d fallen asleep and that his head was resting on Kote’s shoulder. He didn’t dare move, though, not when he knew whose fingers those were. His heart thudded in his chest.

There was a heavy weight in his lap as well, and the pinprick of small claws digging lightly into his knee.

“RISE AND SHINE, CADETS!” Something banged on the wall.

Obi-Wan lurched upright, wrenching his neck, and had to make a grab for Sish before the boy rolled off onto the floor. Beside him Kote was on his feet and swearing at Rex, whose grin was unrepentant.

“The little nippers need their breakfast,” Rex said, and sure enough, three young faces appeared behind him. 

Sish wriggled free of Obi-Wan’s grip and dropped to the ground. “Bo’kss, bo’kss, bo’kss,” he muttered, picking up the holobook that had also fallen to the floor. He stomped back over to the other younglings.

“Yes, breakfast would be nice,” Kote said, glaring at his brother. “I guess that’s up to me, then, huh?”

“You are the oldest,” Rex agreed, following him over to the kitchenette. _“Have a good night?”_ he added in Mando’a.

 _“Screw you,”_ Kote said, before continuing in basic. “Maybe you can help, if you aren’t too much of a baby.”

Breakfast was dressed-up rations with a selection of fresh fruit slices. The younglings all but inhaled what was offered, though Sish took one sniff of the meiloorun and grimaced, pushing them right off his plate.

Rex and Kote alternated between culling through the information pulled from the pirates’ ship and talking with the younglings. They left Obi-Wan in charge of Sish. By the time Rex came to usher the trandoshan off to bed Obi-Wan had developed a severe hatred of tookas, boxes, and half the planets in the galaxy, as well as a myriad of ridiculous rhymes for said planets. Sish, however, was getting a better grasp on pronunciation, and there’d been a few times when he’d looked up to find Kote watching him and smiling.

Obi-Wan won the argument that night and claimed the floor, leaving a disgruntled Kote on the couch. Sleep was a tooka-filled nightmare, so it was almost a relief when he felt the ship drop back out of hyper at some truly indecent hour. He sat up as Kote stirred awake, managing to shift out of the way before he could be stepped on.

“We’re home.” Kote stood, stretching. Obi-Wan could pick up on the faintest hint of… anticipation? in his voice. He wondered what “home” meant for someone like Kote; former slave, soldier-for-hire, and rescuer of younglings. He was looking forward to seeing it, and to finally meeting Jango Fett, whom Kote called buir.

Between the two of them they managed to get the younglings up and fed a quick breakfast while Rex negotiated what turned out to be a very rough landing.

“Don’t worry,” Kote assured the kids (and Obi-Wan). “It’s always stormy here, but we can handle it.”

The ship lurched as wind and what sounded like a wall of water hit them. Sish was rigid.

“Vess’lll,” he said, uncertain.

“Vessel good,” Obi-Wan said. “Yawn.” He mimicked yawning, like the cozy tooka on Lira San.

Sish stared at him.“Julamba.”

There was another jolt as the ship touched down on the landing pad and then Rex cut the engines and joined them. “See? Didn’t even skid us off into the ocean, like _some_ people.” He grinned.

“It was _one time,”_ Kote said, “and I was _five.”_ He stood. “Come on, let’s get these kids off the ship and seen to, then maybe they can have some _real_ food for breakfast!”

The kids scrambled up and formed an orderly line behind him. Like ducklings, Obi-Wan thought, trying to smother a smile. Even Sish joined up, still clutching that be-cursed book. Hopefully Boba wouldn’t want it back or there’d be a fight.

The hatch resisted at first, but with a couple of kicks from Rex it groaned its way open into a hurricane. The ramp extended and the children huddled behind Kote.

“Don’t worry,” he told them. “There are medics waiting to take you inside, and the doors aren’t far away.”

One of the twi’leks- it had to be Rol since his pink skin lacked any green- gave Rex a pleading look. Rex signed something and Rol sighed, signing back. They proceeded down the ramp into the storm, holding hands so no one got blown away. Obi-Wan followed after them, with Rex bringing up the rear. 

Jango Fett was waiting for them, his full armor unmistakable. Three men wearing medical armbands came up to scoop up the younger children. All of them looked exactly like Kote and Rex. Grissa tried to cover her head and ran after the medics, who were jogging toward a nearby door into a saucer-shaped building.

Kote was talking to Jango and Rex moved to join them. Obi-Wan shielded his face from the whipping rain as he approached.

“Hello there,” he shouted, grinning. “Nice weather you have here!”

“Thank you for bringing my boys and the younglings back to me.” Jango’s voice was amplified by his helmet. He raised his blaster, pointing it at Obi-Wan’s chest. “Now tell me why I shouldn’t kill you, _Jetii.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is virtually no Dosh to use as a reliable source, so I had to make do. Sish is mostly demanding "teach me, now" and asking what "this" is. And then when Obi-Wan tells him everything is fine/yawn, he says "no." I don't blame him a bit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, gang! Sorry for the delay, I didn't mean to keep you hanging _that_ long, but I lost a chunk of time in the middle to various events. Hopefully the wait was worth it! Also, many thanks to the fine folks on the Fictalk server and especially slwalker for helping with snarls and hand-holding.

Obi-Wan raised his hands, heart sinking. “Careful there,” he said. “Let’s not be hasty.” 

How had Jango known? Where had things gone wrong? He knew it couldn’t have come from Kote or Rex, not judging by the surprise mirrored on their faces. 

“He doesn’t look like a Jedi.” Kote frowned. “And he didn’t try to kill us.”

“He saved our shebs when the pirates attacked,” Rex added. “Uh, maybe we could move this inside before we drown?”

Jango hadn’t moved, not even in the wind. “I have the footage from the cantina,” he said. “Why don’t you tell them how you got the puck?”

The cold seemed to sink all the way to his heart. _The cantina._ Of course Jango had been watching. The files said he left nothing to chance. Obi-Wan drew a deep breath, trying not to choke on the rain.

“It was on the table when-” he decided he might as well admit to everything “-when Dooku attacked. I used the Force to call it to my hand.”

He stayed focused on Jango, trying not to notice the look of shocked betrayal that passed over Kote’s face. Rex was glaring at him, hand dropping to the blaster at his hip.

“Dooku.” Jango growled the name, his helmet rising half an inch. “If I find out you’re in league with him…”

“I’m not.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “He left the order a few years ago and, well…” He still couldn’t quite grasp that his Master’s Master had Fallen.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right now, Jetii.”

Kote’s expression was a blank mask. On Jango’s other side, Rex was still glaring at him. He wondered how to play this- if he could at all.

“I’m not here to cause any trouble,” he said, ignoring Jango’s audible scoff. “This was merely a fact-finding mission.”

“Since when have the Jetii cared about facts?” Jango stepped forward, his voice harsh through the vocoder. “You sure as _fuck_ didn’t care about facts at Galidraan!”

Galidraan. That had been in the files, too. It had been a massacre. The Jedi had been sent in to deal with a threat to the public and had all but wiped out the True Mandalorians. Jango, the sole survivor, had been remanded into the custody of the governor, and the Jedi had gone home, confident of a job well done.

Except they’d been fed false information; the True Mandalorians weren’t the threat and had, in fact, been hired by the governor to help stem a rebellion. It was a shameful piece of Jedi history and Obi-Wan had never heard about it until this mission. Jango had a good reason to hate and distrust him.

“We were given false information,” Obi-Wan said. “But you’re right, we didn’t verify it as thoroughly as we should have.” He paused. “I have a feeling the same may be true, here. Perhaps we could discuss this? Inside?” His head twitched as a rivulet of water streamed over his ear.

 _“He doesn’t have any trackers,”_ Rex said in Mando’a. _“They won’t be able to find him, not here.”_

“I think we should hear his excuses first.” Kote’s voice was clipped. “Then decide what to do with him.”

The rain hammered down, the wind smacking it into Obi-Wan’s unprotected face.

After a long pause, Jango tilted his head. “Fine. Inside.” 

Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief.

“Kote. Cuffs.”

Ah. That was to be expected, he supposed. He watched Kote remove the cuffs from a pouch on Jango’s belt, approaching him at an angle so he wouldn’t cross the line of fire. Obi-Wan lowered his hands, holding them out for the cuffs.

“Kote,” he said, as quietly as the storm would allow. “I’m sorry.”

Kote cuffed one wrist and spun him around, grabbing his other arm and cinching the link tight behind his back. Obi-Wan’s heart sank a little further.

A shove between his shoulders sent him stumbling forward. He was frog-marched into the building, through graceful, curving white hallways, and into what looked to be some kind of office. Along the way he saw three more men, all identical to Kote and Rex.

“Start talking.”

Jango moved behind the battered desk, flanked by his… Well. Obi-Wan was beginning to think they weren’t his sons, but the other possibility seemed a little far-fetched. He took a deep breath.

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he said. Kote’s left eye twitched. “I was sent by the Council to investigate rumors that you were raising an army with plans to eventually lay siege to Mandalore.”

Rex snorted. Kote’s eyebrows shot up, and Obi-Wan swore he could feel the man’s estimation of him go down. Jango, however, said nothing. His blaster stayed pointed at Obi-Wan’s head.

“I was sent undercover to determine if there was any truth to the stories we’d been told and to gather as much information about you and your army as I could.” He lifted his chin, looking first at Rex, then Kote.

“It became obvious almost immediately that the information we’d been given was… incomplete,” he said. “Kote and Rex both referred to you as their father, and the resemblance was remarkable enough to be true.” 

He paused, but of course Jango didn’t react. Rex’s expression had hardened while Kote looked… thoughtful?

“They weren’t the hardened mercenaries I’d been led to expect.” He flexed his hands; the bindings were cutting off his circulation. “They were kind. They helped me more than I had any right to expect. And when the pirates attacked…” He risked another look at Kote. “They were more concerned about the children than the cargo. They were gentle and knew what to do to set their minds at ease.” He smiled, he couldn’t help it.

Jango pulled the chair out and sat, elbows on the desk and blaster still leveled.

“You think mercenaries can’t be gentle? That Mando’ade don’t care about ad’ike?”

“No!” Obi-Wan started to take a step forward and thought better of it. “Of course not! I know children are very important to Mandalorians, but our information-”

“Where did that information come from? Who sent you after me and my boys?” Jango huffed. “And don’t say it was your kriffin’ Council. _Someone_ must have put them on my trail for you to be here.”

“I don’t know.” Obi-Wan stifled a wince. “The Council didn’t see fit to tell me that.”

“Don’t ask a lot of questions, do you? Typical _J_ etii.” He muttered something unfavorable in Mando’a before pulling off his helmet and setting it on the desk. 

There were more scars and wrinkles on his face than in the holopics, but now that Obi-Wan could do a side-by-side comparison with Kote, the similarities were damning.

“I ask questions,” he said. “I don’t always receive answers.”

Jango’s smirk was a perfect echo of Kote’s. It was disconcerting.

“Just another clueless dupe, blindly following the High Council’s command, eh? Good Jedi follow orders.”

Kote and Rex both flinched, though Obi-Wan couldn’t see why.

“And whose orders are _you_ following?” Obi-Wan demanded. “Or did you suddenly find the need and have the money to create an entire army of clones?”

Jango chuckled. “Not entirely clueless, then. Kote, Rex, you’re dismissed.”

Both men hesitated. 

“Are you sure, sir?” Rex glared at Obi-Wan. Kote was watching Jango.

“Oh, he’s not going to try anything,” Jango said. “Are you?”

Obi-Wan arched his brow. “Whatever you think of me, I’m not that much of a fool.”

“See?” Jango waved the blaster without ever pointing it away from Obi-Wan. “He’s not that much of a fool. Go check on our new foundlings.”

Both of them pivoted to face Jango, saluting crisply before turning to leave. Rex gave him a wide berth, but Kote elbowed him as he went by, causing him to stumble.

The door closed and silence descended. Obi-Wan wondered if he was about to be shot.

As if sensing his thoughts, Jango spoke. “You still haven’t given me a reason not to kill you.”

“Is there any reason I could give you that you’d accept?” He bit his cheek; his mouth had gotten him in a lot of trouble over the years and he still couldn’t control it.

Jango’s smile flashed bright and sharp. “No,” he said. “But maybe we could work out a little deal.”

“A deal,” Obi-Wan repeated. There was no way this could end well. It was, however, seeming like the only choice he had. “What kind of deal did you have in mind?” He flexed his fingers again and felt tingling.

“You want to live, I want a little problem taken care of that a Jetii like you might be able to handle.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “What sort of ‘little problem’ are we talking about?”

“The kind that carries a red lightsaber.” Jango sneered. “I should kill Dooku myself for what he did on Galidraan and for what he _tried_ to make me do here, but in this case I’m willing to… outsource.”

Obi-Wan stared at him. There was a dangerous glint in his eye.

“You want me to kill Master Dooku?”

“He goes by _Darth Tyranus_ now,” Jango sneered. “Kill him, kill his Master, and I’ll let you scurry home safe and sound. Or at least alive,” he amended.

 _“His Master?”_ Obi-Wan’s mind reeled. Oh, he’d heard the legends about the Rule of Two, but he’d have assumed Dooku was the Master, not the Apprentice.

“Should be easy enough for a Jetii like yourself,” Jango said. “The Dar’jetii _are_ your sworn enemy, after all. When you can’t find any Mandalorians to slaughter.”

Obi-Wan ignored the jab. “And I’m supposed to do this all by myself, am I?”

“Oh, no.” Jango stood, swaggering back around the desk to stand in front of him. “I’ll send a few men with you to make sure you don’t get ‘lost’ along the way.” He grinned. “Rex says you got along well with Kote on the trip here; I’m sure he’d be _thrilled_ with the chance to spend more time with you.”

Despite the danger, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and sighed. This was turning into a very, very bad mission. “Is there another option?”

“I could shoot you and throw you overboard to the sharks.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, meeting Jango’s hard brown gaze. “Very well, I accept. But if Kote isn’t willing to be near me, then I ask that you choose someone else to replace him.”

Jango was close enough that Obi-Wan caught a flash of his surprise in the Force. None of it showed on his face, however. He nodded, holstering his blaster. “We have a deal?”

Obi-Wan sighs, nodding. "We do."

Jango moved behind him to undo the binders. "Good. I look forward to seeing that you manage to accomplish."

He held out his hand and Obi-Wan clasped his arm, Mando-style. “I will do my best,” he said. May the Force protect them all.


	5. Chapter 5

Obi-Wan was to be kept under guard at all times. He was not free to wander the facility (whatever “the facility” was). He was not allowed to try and contact anyone, even to let them know he was safe. And he was forbidden to use the force or otherwise attempt an escape. If he broke any of those rules he’d be shot dead and his body fed to the ocean.

He gave his word that he’d behave, was reminded that there were cameras everywhere, and was finally remanded into the custody of a clone with the unlikely name of Porg. Porg had a mop of dark curly hair tied in a messy bun and a wing-like pattern emblazoned on his chestplate.

As they walked through the slightly curving corridors the young lieutenant, whose features seemed somewhat softer and more rounded than Kote’s, kept glancing at him without saying anything. It didn’t take a connection to the Force to know he was curious.

“Did you have a question, Porg?”

The words were barely out of his mouth before the soldier turned and asked, “Are you really a Jedi? Uh, sir. Or not sir, you’re a prisoner.” He frowned.

Obi-Wan’s smile was, perhaps, a bit weary. “Yes, I’m a Jedi, although I assure you I have no interest in restarting any wars between our people.”

“Why not?” Porg’s eyes widened. “I mean, not between _us,_ obviously, but, uh. I mean, I thought…”

A door to their right opened, revealing a tall figure with greyish-white skin and a long, graceful neck.

“Oh. Pardon me.” The figure blinked their large black eyes. “I hadn’t realized…” They paused, focusing on Obi-Wan. “Is this a new trainer? I thought Administrator Fett had all the personnel he required.”

“No, Senna Wu, ma’am.” Porg grabbed Obi-Wan’s arm. “He’s a prisoner. I’m escorting him to his room.”

“A prisoner? _Here?”_ Senna Wu’s long fingers fluttered. “Did it get through the shield? I’m sure the last calibrations were correct.”

“No, ma’am, the shields’re fine.” Porg started tugging Obi-Wan down the hall. “He came in with Commander Kote and Captain Rex. No need to worry.”

“Ah. That’s acceptable, then.” Senna Wu’s fingers stilled and she turned to walk down the corridor they’d just come from.

Porg exhaled, releasing Obi-Wan’s arm. “Your room is just ahead.”

“Shield?” Obi-Wan glanced at him. 

“Yeah,” he said. “She’s one of the designers. We’re lucky she chose to stay after everything went down. Can you really kill people with your mind?”

Obi-Wan coughed to cover his laugh. “The Force makes many things possible, but the Jedi are primarily peacekeepers. We don’t seek to harm anyone unless there’s no other option.”

“An army of peacekeepers. Huh.” Porg stopped in front of a door, typing in a code to unlock it. “This is yours. If you need anything either I or one of the other troopers will be right here.” He stepped aside, gesturing for Obi-Wan to enter.

He thought about arguing the semantics of calling the Jedi Order an army, but he had more pressing concerns. “How long is this likely to take?”

Jango had dismissed him, promising to make “arrangements” for Obi-Wan’s suicide mission against the Sith (not that he’d referred to it as such, of course). Questions were not something the Mandalorian warrior seemed inclined to answer beyond informing him that they’d speak again “later.”

Porg shrugged. “It’ll take as long as it needs to. I don’t have the clearance for it, but I know General Fett was pretty fu- uh, damn pissed when he figured out you were a Jedi.” He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes darting around the corridor. “You… You aren’t here to claim us, right?”

Halfway into his “temporary quarters,” Obi-Wan turned, frowning. “Claim you? I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“You know, us. The clones.” He made a vague gesture with his hands. “You aren’t planning to take us all back to fight your Jedi war, right? I assume that’s why General Fett wants you kept under guard.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth… and closed it again. He reviewed what Porg had just asked him and still couldn’t get it to make sense. He shook his head. 

“I don’t know what you’ve been told, but there’s no ‘Jedi war’. We’re at peace, as is the Republic.” Although if the Sith truly were making a comeback, as evidence was beginning to suggest, well, that was something to worry about later.

“Even if the Order were to somehow get involved in a war,” he continued, “we wouldn’t be involved in the, ah, _tactical_ side of it.”

“Oh.”

It was hard to tell if the trooper was relieved or disappointed, but he straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, looking up at Obi-Wan.

“Food will be brought later. You’re to stay here until then.”

Obi-Wan dipped his head in acknowledgement and stepped deeper into the room, allowing the door to slide shut. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and turned to study his prison cell.

It was a simple layout, containing a bed, a table with a lamp, and a door that looked to open on a ‘fresher. There were no windows or decorations of any kind. He sat on the end of the bed and put his face in his hands. This mission was a disaster. More so than usual. Jedi philosophy would say that it was the will of the Force, but if that were true he’d like to know what he’d done to piss off the Force and if it would accept an apology.

He checked the room, finding nothing of interest beyond a bottle of what was presumably soap in the bathroom. He couldn’t identify the language it was written in, but it smelled vaguely floral. The shower was sonic and the controls were up high enough that he suspected the room had once belonged to a being like Senna Wu.

Once his inspection was complete he settled on the floor to meditate. Or at least he tried. With his thoughts and emotions in a whirl, it took longer than usual to find his center, and once he did he was left to try and make sense of everything that had happened.

Dooku being a Sith was still hard to wrap his mind around, but learning that he wasn’t the Master in this scenario made it all so much more troubling. Who could possibly be Master to someone like Dooku? Not the zabrak he’d fought on Naboo, he was sure. That, however, meant the Rule of Two might no longer be in effect, which was… troubling, to say the least. As was the fact that _he_ was now responsible for their eradication. With no backup, save for Kote and some of his “brothers.”

Clones. _Kriff._ The practice was illegal in the Republic and Obi-Wan could remember reading a story in Civics class where an aging billionaire cloned himself in a bid for immortality and the courts ruled to destroy the clone. He didn’t want to consider what might happen in the case of _hundreds_ of clones, especially ones bred to be soldiers. 

Bred for whom, though? And why? Jango had hinted that Dooku had tried to make him do something here and the Fallen Jedi certainly seemed to have an interest in whatever was going on, but then why had Porg assumed that Obi-Wan was here to claim the clones for the Jedi? None of it made sense with the few pieces he had and he could only see it getting worse from here. Maybe Kote could help him understand, if he ever forgave Obi-Wan for deceiving him. 

His chest ached even as he tried to release his guilt into the Force. It really wasn’t his fault; he’d only been following the instructions he’d been given for the mission, just as he’d done dozens of times before. This one shouldn’t have been any different. And yet somehow it still _felt_ different.

There was a knock at the door.

“Commander Kote here to see the prisoner!” Porg announced.

Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet, trying to brush the wrinkles from his hopelessly-wrinkled clothes.

“Okay,” he answered back. “Come in!”

The door slid open to reveal Kote, grim-faced and carrying a tray of food. Porg was behind him, looking as if he was pressed against the far wall of the corridor.

“You’re a _prisoner,”_ Kote said, the door closing behind him as he crossed the room. “I can come in whether you invite me or not.”

“Yes, of course,” Obi-Wan said, wincing as Kote slammed the tray down on the table. “Kote, look, I wanted to say again how sorry I am about-”

_WHAM!_

Pain exploded in his face. He staggered back, reaching up to cover his nose and tasting blood.

“Do you even _care_ how much danger you’ve put us in?” Kote snarled.

“Danger?” Obi-Wan touched his nose, sending a fresh aura of pain through his head. At least it didn’t seem to be broken. “I know I could have told you about my mission, but-”

“What do you want with us?” 

Blinking involuntary tears from his eyes, he focused on Kote. His companion of the past few days was tense, almost rigid, his fists clenched and his posture challenging. Before he could ask, Kote continued.

“Are you here to claim us for your war? Or punish us for defying you?”

Obi-Wan’s mind went blank. “...I beg your pardon?”

Kote lifted his chin, looking Obi-Wan in the eye. “We know who paid for us,” he said. “And we know about the time bomb implanted in our heads as a doublecross.” He tapped his temple where a faint scar could be seen through his hair. “But Jango _freed_ us from all of that. If you think you can sneak your way in now and- and do whatever you please with us, well…” His eyes went flinty. “If the dar’jetii don’t kill you I’m sure I can arrange it.”

A distant part of Obi-Wan’s mind reminded him that Porg had asked a similar question about being claimed for a war, but it was lost in the maelstrom of confusion stirred by Kote’s tirade.

“I know you’ve little reason to trust me,” he said, choosing his words with care and keeping his tone gentle. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Kote’s eyes narrowed and Obi-Wan felt his cheeks heat from the sheer intensity of their gaze.

“You Jetii arranged for our creation,” Kote said.

Obi-Wan made it to the edge of the bed and sat down hard, his nose throbbing in time with his wildly-beating heart.

“The people you sent to make arrangements were planning to betray you,” he continued. “Which is why Jango agreed.”

Pieces were falling into terrible, terrible place. Obi-Wan covered his mouth, listening.

“When Jango realized that Tyranus was one of the _Jetii_ who slaughtered his family at Galidraan, he realized he’d been duped.” Kote frowned down at him. “By that time his- Boba- was already making friends with the vode and asking his father uncomfortable questions about us.”

His voice grew calmer as he talked, a lot of the heat leaving it even if the determination remained in place.

“He helped us rise up against the longnecks and claim the planet for ourselves, though some of them chose to stay and help.” He paused. “You didn’t know any of this?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I can assure you, the Jedi have no need of an army and certainly wouldn’t resort to cloning to get one.” He winced as he realized what he’d said and glanced up at Kote. “No offense.”

Kote snorted. “Are you saying Jango _lied_ to us?”

“No.” It was Obi-Wan’s turn to frown. “I’m saying that there’s a lot more going on here than any of us realize. We- the Jedi- are being set up and someone is trying to cast you as the pawns.”

“Fuck that,” Kote said. “We’re not pawns, we’re _people!”_

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan agreed. “I’d guess that it’s the Sith Master who is pulling all the strings, but how are they able to manipulate the Jedi, the Senate, _and_ this place here?”

“Sounds like you have your work cut out for you, then.” 

Obi-Wan could _hear_ the smirk in his voice. “I think you meant ‘we,’ Commander.” He stood, smiling. “After all, it seems we’re in this together, right?” He held out his hand.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

He didn’t grasp Obi-Wan’s forearm, but did tap his fist with his own before turning to leave.

“Better eat and rest up while you can. We leave in the morning.”

Porg opened the door at his knock, giving both of them a wide-eyed look before he stepped out of the way for Kote. The door slid shut again before Obi-Wan could think of a good comeback.

“Kriff,” he muttered, and went to eat his supper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's more than "hundreds" of clones on Kamino, but Obi-Wan doesn't know that yet.
> 
> I'm not sure when the next chapter will go up. The world is such a mess right now and finding the spell slots to devote to serious writing can get a bit tricky, but I'm in this for the long haul, so trust that it _will_ update eventually and some day may even make it to complete! LOL! In the meantime, stay as safe as you can, be as healthy as you can, and fight the good fights.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ta-daa! I didn't abandon this fic after all, see? Hope it was worth all that waiting.
> 
> As a side note I'm also going to go back and adjust some formatting on my use of Mando'a. When it's English-subbed-for-Mando'a I'll keep the italics, but the individual words sprinkled in won't be (unless it's for emphasis). I read an article somewhere that said that sort of thing is _othering_ to folks who speak foreign languages and while Mando'a isn't a "real" language I still want to try and be respectful. It's a learning curve after all. Hope you are all staying healthy and safe.

Obi-Wan’s dreams that night were troubled, full of images that flickered like a bad holosignal. A red lightsaber. A figure backlit in a flash of lightning. A forest at night that he was running through. A smile that warmed him to his core. Glints of metal as figures marched in unison, the sound rumbling like thunder. Glimpses of the galaxy with dark threads woven throughout, and over it all a spider dripping venom. Right before he woke he saw that some of the spider’s web was beginning to come unraveled. Just a few strands here and there, but something in his mind screamed _this is important._ He woke with a grimace, wiping a hand down his face to make sure the sticky strands weren’t real.

He’d had foretelling dreams before, but it wasn’t always easy to discern what was gifted by the Force and what was produced by his own mind. He got up, did some stretches, and meditated his way through his morning routine.

There was a knock at the door followed by it opening to reveal a new- if familiar-looking- face.

“Breakfast,” was all the clone said, placing the tray on the table.

“Ahh, thank you.” Obi-Wan smiled. “You must be Porg’s replacement. I-”

The door was already closing before he could finish asking for a name. Sighing, he sat down to eat, reviewing once again what few tatters of a plan he’d managed to pull together. Escape was unlikely. And if he was really meant to go chasing about the galaxy looking under rocks for hidden Sith, he’d need to find a way to get his lightsaber. Maybe Kote would be in a better mood today and they’d be able to discuss it.

As if thinking the name summoned the man, the door opened to reveal Kote, armored up with his helmet tucked under his arm. His expression was far from the easy smile Obi-Wan had begun to like, but it wasn’t the banked fury of the night before, either. A victory of sorts, however minor.

“Ready?” Kote lifted his chin, looking down his nose at him.

“No.” Obi-Wan stood, gathering up his small bag. “But I suppose that doesn’t matter.”

“Not really.” Kote stepped back, motioning for him to go first. “Ship’s ready. We’ll rendezvous with Gearshift at Acnestis Station to get your things. I’m sure that being a Jedi you already have a plan ready, so we’ll go from there.”

Obi-Wan stopped, facing him. “My things?”

There was a glint in Kote’s eyes, his brow twitching upward. “Unless you hid your lightsaber somewhere creative, I figure you might want it.”

Several responses died on his lips. “Yes. Thank you.” Pushing his embarrassment into the Force he resumed walking, turning where Kote told him to until they were standing outside a door with two dents in it that Obi-Wan thought he recognized from his meeting with Jango.

Sure enough, when Kote knocked, Jango told them to enter.

"Survived the night, I see." Kote’s “buir” leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Obi-Wan as Kote shut the door behind them before stepping aside to watch them both.

"Your hospitality is better than some I've experienced." Obi-Wan dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Thank you."

Jango snorted. "Always so polite." He picked a datapad off his desk and flung it. "Here's everything we have on that skanah Darth Tyranus and the few rumors we've collected about his Master."

Obi-Wan managed to catch the 'pad before it hit his face. "Thank you," he repeated. "I think." He powered it on to read, but found Jango suddenly right in front of him.

"Listen well, Jetii." His voice was low and hard. "I'm trusting you with the life of my Kote and his men. If anything should happen to them, if you try to betray them or leave them for dead, then make no mistake: I will hunt you to the ends of the galaxy and string your guts over the hull of my ship. Are we clear?”

Jango was a few inches shorter than Obi-Wan, but sincerity rang with every word and it was all he could do not to take a step back.

“Very clear, sir,” he said.

“Good.” Jango’s smile was that of a predator. “Good hunting to you. Kote.” He turned as Kote came to attention. “K’oyacyi.”

“Always, sir.” He saluted and then stepped in to embrace his father.

And Jango was Kote’s father, regardless of how geneticists might see it; he loved his “sons” and was doing everything he could to protect them. It was something Obi-Wan could respect, even as he wondered if _anything_ he’d been told about the exiled Mand’alor was true.

“Right,” Jango said, stepping back. “Get out of my face.”

“Can’t get out of your face when I’m wearing it.” Grinning, Kote ducked a swipe from Jango and opened the door. “Come on, Jetii, we have demagolka to hunt.”

Numerous twists and turns later- Obi-Wan was reasonably sure Kote was leading them on a roundabout route just to be difficult- they approached the outer doors.

A group of ten armored clones were waiting, snapping to attention at their approach. There was on recognizable face in the mix: Porg.

“Commander!” A bald clone- a _trooper_ \- on the right saluted. “Shadow Squad is ready!”

Obi-Wan came to a halt. Behind him he heard Kote sigh.

“Shadow Squad? Really, Waxer? I leave you alone for five minutes and that’s what you come up with?”

Waxer’s grin was reflected on several of the gathered men. “Well, sir, since only a handful of Ghost is going, we figured we needed our own name.”

“And ghosts belong in the shadows,” added one with a severe, jagged hairline.

“Especially with armor like ours!” One with a long mohawk on an otherwise bald head rapped his knuckles against his black chestplate.

“Di’kute,” Kote muttered, though it sounded fond. “Whatever,” he added, a little louder. “Squad, I’d like you to meet our pet Jetii for this little adventure, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan bowed as the squad greeted him, and listened intently as Kote introduced them. They all had distinguishing features, whether it was their hair, tattoos, or a combination, and their armor markings were unique as well. He did his best to memorize them; if they were going to be traveling together for the foreseeable future, it was the least he could do to get their names right.

There was one noticeable absence, however.

“Rex isn’t coming?” He glanced at Kote, who looked like he wanted to roll his eyes.

“Rex is staying here to coordinate with some of the other Commanders in case they have to come pull our shebs out of the fire. Now,” he continued, addressing his squad. “Let’s head out! You know how Gearshift worries when we’re late.”

Several of the troopers snorted.

“Will he even notice when we arrive?” Grinning, Waxer put on his helmet as Kote entered the door code.

A blast of wind and rain made Obi-Wan stagger, though the troopers seemed to be expecting it. Kote caught his arm and they headed out into the storm. It was hard to see through the deluge, but he could just make out the hulking shape of what might have been a transport or a gunship on the landing pad ahead. He tried to get a better look as they approached the landing ramp, but a flash of lightning had him seeing spots. He could almost hear the Force laughing at him. Fine. It was fine. He could wait.

Shadow Squad seemed completely at ease, and as Obi-Wan attempted to wick the water from his hair he envied them their helmets and armor; he wasn’t looking forward to spending the next few hours in wet clothes.

“You’re in the captain’s quarters with me,” Kote said, leading him through the hold towards the front half of the ship.

Despite the chill he felt a flash of warmth that in no way abated with the Commander added, “Where I can keep an eye on you.”

_“I’ll keep more than my eye on him for you, sir!”_ Strill, a trooper with a jagged hairline, had removed his helmet and was leering at them.

Obi-Wan snorted, only to find himself the sudden focus of Kote’s attention.

“Speak Mando’a, do you?”

There was an edge to the question, unfortunately well deserved. Obi-Wan sighed, his brief amusement evaporating.

“I spent a year on Mandalore protecting Duchess Satine,” he said. “I picked up some of the language.”

At the mention of Satine, several of the nearest troopers made a warding sign against evil. It seemed Jango had passed on his dislike of the Duchess to his clones.

“Any other secrets you feel like confessing?” Kote’s voice was as bland as his expression, but Obi-Wan still felt a flush of guilt.

“No,” he said. “I think that about covers it.”

Silent, Kote turned, and Obi-Wan followed him the rest of the way to the Captain’s quarters. 

“There’s dry clothes in the left drawer.” Kote gestured. “Get changed and report to the galley.”

The door closed on Obi-Wan’s thank you. A quick investigation of the room revealed two bunks, two sets of drawers, a fold-down desk, and a door that led to a tiny refresher. He also found a comm unit sitting on a shelf. It had to be a test of some kind, and he wasn’t about to try Kote’s already-frayed patience.

Borrowing a towel from the ‘fresher he peeled himself out of his sodden clothes, dried off as best he could, and put on the loose shirt and pants that were in “his” drawer. They were a little large for him, but they were better than what he had.

He took a moment to settle himself in the Force and, as an afterthought, pocketed the comm before palming open the door and going to locate the galley. Porg was the first one to see him, waving him over.

“I was just gonna see if Nico would let me watch as we go through the Mouth,” he said. “Wanna come?”

“The… Mouth?” Obi-Wan repeated, unsure he’d heard right.

A trooper with shaggy hair and a beard- Gregor- reached over to cuff the back of his head. “Nah, when we’re going out it’s the Anus,” he said, laughing.

Porg’s skin darkened and he ducked his head. “Mouth sounds better,” he muttered, as the others teased him.

“I’m not sure what the, ah, Mouth is,” Obi-Wan said, coming to his rescue.

Porg’s eyes widened. “Really? But didn’t you come in through- never mind.” He stood. “Come on, you have to see this!”

He headed for the bow of the ship and Obi-Wan followed, his pace not as fast.

“Are you sure I’ll be welcome in the cockpit?”

Porg’s shoulders hunched. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. The Commander never stays mad for long.”

Obi-Wan felt a phantom ache in his nose, but decided not to argue. The trooper was at least right about them being allowed into the cockpit, though Obi-Wan found himself crammed against Kote since space quickly became limited.

The jostling as Nico fought the controls to get them through the turbulent atmosphere was a little awkward, but Kote braced himself and then braced Obi-Wan, so perhaps Porg wasn’t entirely wrong about the Commander not holding grudges. Or he’d been ordered by Jango to keep him in one piece.

As they broke through the storm layer at last, Obi-Wan could see a large object above them. A space station? Some kind of orbital debris? Porg glanced back at him from the co-pilot’s seat, grinning.

“This is the good part,” he said.

Kote sighed, his breath hot against Obi-Wan’s neck. “You missed this coming in. Welcome to Cabur,” he said. “One of our _closely guarded secrets.”_

The emphasis had Porg ducking his head again.

“It’s a modified planetary shield,” Kote continued. “What with buir defying his employers, we needed something to keep the planet safe from retaliation.”

A planetary shield. The odd conversation with Senna Wu suddenly made more sense. Obi-Wan had heard of the technology, but it was understandably rare and expensive and most worlds found it to be an excessive measure.

Nico commed the station, which was shaped like an enormous ring. A shimmer he hadn’t noticed disappeared in the ring’s center and they soared through it, out of the atmosphere and into space.

“The attacks have been decreasing, but we’re not taking any chances with the lives of all our brothers,” Kote said.

“Oya,” Nico and Porg said in unison.

“Understandable,” Obi-Wan said. And it was, even if the entire situation was making less sense.

He felt himself being nudged toward the door.

“Now that the sightseeing is over, it’s time to sit down and discuss our plans.”

“As you wish, Commander.” Obi-Wan led the way back to the galley. He wondered whose plans they would be discussing and had the uneasy feeling they were supposed to be his. If only he had one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skanah- very hated person, akin to "fucker" (and many thanks to the mandowords tumblr for that)  
> K’oyacyi- Come back safely; "stay alive"  
> Demagolka- Someone who commits atrocities; a real-life monster  
> Di'kute- idiots  
> Cabur- Guardian  
> Oya- Basically hoorah/cheers


End file.
